


A Fortunate Delay

by valethra



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Twitter Thing, Comedy, First Meetings, Heart-to-Heart, Lactose Intolerant Keith (Voltron), M/M, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valethra/pseuds/valethra
Summary: Lance’s flight gets delayed. So does Keith’s. And the airline has forced them to spend the night in the same hotel room. One with only one bed. This is NOT what either of them signed up for, but maybe they’ll both leave with more than what they arrived with.[Based on a real thing that happened to two airline passengers that sent Twitter into a frenzy and that I promised I would write a Klance fic about.]
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Mentioned Shiro/Adam - Relationship
Comments: 39
Kudos: 372





	A Fortunate Delay

"I can't _believe_ this."

Lance groaned and tore at his own hair, drowning out the sound of the airline employee that was trying to explain, for the third time, that even though it wasn't _Lance's_ fault that he had missed his connecting flight because _the very same airline_ had delayed his first one, they still didn't have another flight available until the next afternoon.

At the very least, they weren't charging him for the new flight and had offered to pay for his overnight hotel stay, and with all the bells and whistles, seemingly just to avoid his filing a formal complaint with the corporate office. And it was a pretty decent hotel, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It was more luxury than Lance was accustomed to and he had every intention of taking advantage of the room service. He dragged his suitcase across the street and explained who he was to the receptionist, and she told him which room he was supposed to take. He was almost calm as he finally made his way there. He was entirely calm again by the time he got settled in and found something decent on TV.

That _was_ the case, anyway, until he heard a key in the lock and somebody else threw the door open. He nearly fell off of the bed in his fright.

"Who's there?! I didn't order anything yet!"

"Who the HELL—"

There was something like a _thump_ from the entryway as the intruder jumped, equally startled. Lance heard stomping and then there was another figure there. Some guy, probably around his age, dressed mostly in black and with dark hair that stuck out in a weird way at the bottom. And wearing boots, for some reason, which had been loud against the not-real-wood bit of the floor.

"What are you doing in here? This is my room!" Lance said emphatically, holding up his key. The other guy maintained direct eye contact as he held up another key.

"It's MY room. How else would I have gotten in here?"

Lance looked down at the place where he was sitting. The only bed in the room.

"...You've gotta be kidding me."

The two of them, before they had even bothered to exchange names, barged down to the front desk together. It turned into some kind of race before either one knew what was going on. Lance would have just taken the elevator otherwise. The woman there explained that there was literally only one room available for them, and that room just so happened to have only one bed. And that while both the airline and the hotel were _terribly_ sorry for the inconvenience, it was either that or the street. That was how quickly Lance's one little luxury had turned into a giant pain in the ass.

The other guy tried to help, at least. And he offered to sleep on the sofa. Only, their room didn't actually have a sofa. He hadn't been in there long enough to notice that before Lance had practically dragged him out. As he returned to his earlier spot on the mattress, this time with a body that felt like its weight had tripled, Lance sighed, the sound of it heavy with noticeable resignation.

"So. What's your name, _roomie?_ " he asked. He didn't have the energy to pretend that he was remotely interested in the answer. Lance's temporary roommate looked nervously around the room, trying to find somewhere, _anywhere_ to sit that wasn't the bed, before he answered.

"Keith," he said, sounding equally unconcerned with the conversation topic. Lance tried not to laugh, because that was an awful, terrible name and he didn't even look like a Keith. _Keith_ was a name better suited to tall, burly dudes— lumberjack types, he imagined— and this particular Keith was more like an almost-goth pretty boy.

"Okay, cool. I'm Lance."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance." There was a noticeable edge to his voice. Sarcastic. _Lovely_. Just grand. 

Lance already knew that this evening was going to be just phenomenal.

* * *

It didn't take Lance long to conclude that he found Keith irritating.

It wasn't any particular thing that he did, because he was pretty quiet, so he wouldn't say that he _hated_ the guy. It was in his attitude. He had a hell of a glare, and he looked like a poser, and he had a tendency to scoff or roll his eyes. He couldn't seem to help being passive-aggressive, either, even when he was putting on a semi-polite facade.

Keith was _also_ picky about food. Lance had been excited about having their lunch delivered by room service and Keith had managed to ruin that, his one solace, by informing him that he was lactose-intolerant and couldn't have half of the things that Lance wanted to get without paying for it in severe abdominal pain later. Lance could have ordered said things for himself, maybe, but it would have been too much food for one person alongside his main "meal". He made it a point to order a decadent chocolate milkshake just to spite Keith.

Keith himself got only one small item from the menu, and looking at his defeated expression as he ate his depressing little salad somehow ruined Lance's appetite. He wasn't able to finish all of his food and felt guilty about the waste. Especially because it was mostly his own fault for ordering the massive milkshake.

After that, they bickered about noise. Lance had settled down in the provided armchair to watch videos on his phone just to pass the time, since he didn't feel like he could pay attention to a movie at that moment. He had been considerate enough to use his earbuds (seeing as he had been raised in an actual home by human beings and not in the lawless wilderness by a pack of wolves), but he still had a tendency to laugh aloud every once in a while. Every time, Keith shot him a look from his spot on the bed, where he sat cross-legged with his laptop.

"If you have an issue, then _say something_ and I'll try to keep it down," Lance said mockingly. Keith met his eyes and glowered at him.

"I'm not trying to pick any fights with you."

He returned to his angry typing. Whatever Keith was working on was, as far as Lance could guess, the kind of thing that required all of his concentration. He was squinting at the screen and his fingers flew across his keys. And yet it wasn't going right for him, because he would only get through what seemed like a paragraph or two before he shook his head and slapped the backspace button.

"Maybe I find your key-smashing annoying," Lance retorted. "Didja ever think about _that?_ "

Keith inhaled sharply, but didn't say anything more. Which told Lance that he didn't have a rebuttal.

Lance checked the time. There were still many hours to kill before it was an acceptable time to turn in for the night. Especially since Lance was delaying the whole bed-sharing thing for as long as possible.

"Is there a pool here...?" he wondered as he checked the pamphlet beside the TV. The rooms themselves seemed to be somewhat small and lacking in amenities, but the hotel itself was a pretty nice one by Lance's standards and it seemed to have plenty of guest activities.

"I don't know," Keith grumbled. Lance huffed.

"I was talking to myself!"

"Well, don't."

Lance elected to ignore that. He tapped the pamphlet as he confirmed that there was, in fact, a pool.

"Alright, so there's a pool, a gym, a bar, and a restaurant. I'm gonna check out the pool. You oughta come with." Keith hummed disapprovingly. "...Seriously, you should go for a dip. It might calm you down and _Lord knows_ you need it. Maybe you'll stop being such a brat if you take a chill pill."

Keith ignored his insult.

"I don't like swimming."

"Who the hell doesn't like swimming?" Keith's face said 'leave me alone', but Lance didn't listen.

"Me. ...I'm also not fond of being half-nude in front of strangers."

"It's not a big deal! The other people don't care and _we're_ both guys, so—"

"Doesn't matter; I'm gay." Lance hadn't expected that at all. At ALL. He sputtered for a response. "And don't flatter yourself. I'm not gonna try anything. Despite popular belief, we _can_ actually control ourselves."

"I wasn't about to accuse you of— look, I'm not a total douchebag. I know that's not how that works. You have any idea how many threesome jokes I have to put up with?"

Keith looked a bit guilty for a second, and his expression softened.

"Bi?"

"Yep. People assume I'll screw anything that moves."

"...Well, whatever— I'm not going swimming."

Lance studied the pamphlet again.

"Okay, then how about the gym? That calms some people down. And we both ought to get out of here at some point or housekeeping won't be able to do their thing."

Keith actually stopped typing to contemplate that. He looked almost longingly at the screen. If he hadn't been so grating Lance might have asked him what he was working so passionately on.

"...Sure. Fine. I'll _go jogging_ , I guess. Can't focus anyway." He closed his laptop with a decisive _clack_ and Lance retreated to the bathroom to change into his swim trunks. Keith had thrown on some more lightweight clothing by the time he came back out, though he was still wearing black. Lance knew somehow that Keith didn't own a lot of clothing in any other color.

Lance had a good time in the pool. A good enough time to decide to loosen up a bit on his roommate and to properly relax. Other people might have found the screaming children annoying, but Lance liked kids and knew how to handle them. Particularly excited kids on vacation, as his hometown had attracted a lot of tourists. Keith, he imagined, was using some exercise machine in a corner by himself. He hoped that no one was bugging him, as Keith had made it quite clear that he was stressed out about something and wanted to be left alone.

What was he worrying about that guy for anyway? Lance tried to remove all thoughts of the man from his head. The single fruity summer cocktail he ordered from the bar wasn't enough to do that for him on its own. He did decide, before he began to intentionally avoid the train of thought, that he'd ask Keith if he wanted to get dinner in the restaurant. They might have more belly-friendly menu options there. Annoying or not, Lance didn't like seeing people go hungry. He probably got that from his mom, who was the type to feed everyone on the block until they couldn't possibly eat another bite.

Surprisingly, he got back to the hotel room first, and by the time he did so the sun had lowered enough to tint the sky slightly orange. He could see that housekeeping had been through there. His early arrival gave him enough time to rinse the chlorine off of himself and out of his hair in the shower in peace, and to then dry off and re-dress himself. When he returned to the living area, Keith was sitting on the end of the bed, and he did look a _little bit_ less tense than he had before. Even if he was sweaty. Lance gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

"I hope these people know I have every intention of stealing all those little shampoos," Lance joked. Keith almost smiled at that.

"I would probably do that anyway." Keith gestured at a drawer with his shoulder. "There's shit in there too. The obligatory Bible, some—"

"I feel like you'll go to hell if you steal a Bible!"

"Probably." Keith made a noise that Lance thought _might_ have been a laugh. Lance thought that maybe he should continue with the more pleasant conversation while he had the opportunity. He patted his own pockets.

"I was thinking that we should have dinner downstairs in a little while," he offered. "I had some kinda cocktail at the bar and the service was pretty okay. There's an ATM by there, by the way. I got some cash for the maid."

Keith frowned at him, and Lance could have sworn at how frustrating that was. He'd thought he was making progress.

"For the maid?"

"Yeah, you know. A tip?"

"You're supposed to tip the maid?"

"Of course! Have you never been to a hotel before?!"

Keith wasn't listening to him and refused to answer that question. He was making some face that he hadn't before and had whipped open his laptop. Lance recognized the colors and layout of the website his fingers had rushed him to. He was checking his bank balance. Lance awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"...I mean, I could get more cash if it's gonna be that big of a deal—"

"Mind your own business!"

Just like that, the tiny bit of an opening in the emotional doorway that Lance had managed to wedge his foot into was slammed shut again. Lance sighed and returned to his armchair as Keith left him there to take a shower of his own.   
  


* * *

As Keith took care of his hygiene, Lance hung upside-down from the end of the bed and weighed his options. And noted the fact that Keith took a while to shower compared to him, probably just because of the hair. Or maybe because he'd gotten sweaty with the whole _gym_ thing— Lance was active and tried to stay in shape, but he'd never had the patience for an organized workout routine. 

He still thought it was best that they go downstairs to eat. But he knew already that Keith would have a particular issue with that based on the way he'd reacted to the maid scenario. He decided he no longer cared if Keith liked him for it or not— he'd drag him down there by his dumb hair if he had to. They were both active, busy young men and had to eat. And if Keith was hungry, he might keep Lance up the whole night with his ominous and physically potent glaring, or turn even more irritable than he already was. Getting some food in him was best for the both of them, he thought.

He definitely didn't _care_. No, sir. He did not care one bit for Keith or about Keith. It certainly didn't sting a little more than it should have when Keith shot him down, and he was not in any way invested in figuring out how to make the guy laugh because he wanted to know what that looked like. Nope.

Keith reappeared before long, and this time with his hair tied back, probably just to keep it off of his shoulders as it dried. How convenient! The perfect thing by which to grab him and drag him into an elevator. If it came to that.

"It's dinner time," Lance said assertively. Or, he meant for it to sound assertive, but it came out strangely threatening instead. As if he intended to kill and eat Keith. "Let's go downstairs to the dining hall."

"No."

 _That was even more blunt than what I was expecting_ , Lance thought with a shudder.

"We're going," he said, a bit more emphatically.

"I'm sorry— _when_ did I agree to doing whatever you tell me to do? I have to work on my... my thing." He gestured vaguely at his laptop and Lance knew what he meant.

"You're not gonna get any work done the way you are now."

"It's none of your business."

"You're hungry. People don't do good work when they're hungry."

"I'm not hungry!" What happened after that was an example of what Lance had long ago dubbed _sitcom timing_. Keith's stomach growled in loud protest at his assertion. In seconds, Keith was red in the face and Lance was snickering like a hyena. "Shut up," he begged. "I'm not going anywhere."

At least he wasn't continuing to insist that he wasn't hungry. That was something.

"What do you have against being seen by other human beings?"

"I'm just not in a great mood! I don't deal well with crowds on a good day."

"So don't think about the crowd. Just focus on me," Lance suggested. Keith laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, _that_ will help. Because your presence is so soothing."

"It could be. If you'd relax for a second and actually talk to me."

"I don't do small talk."

They stared one another down for several seconds. There was a weird energy to it, like some kind of crackle in the air that made it hard to maintain direct eye contact for that long. Keith was the one to give up and lower his head. He sighed, and now he just looked ashamed.

"...If it's a restaurant, then won't we have to tip the wait staff?" He grumbled. Lance shrugged and tried to act casual.

"I can cover it," he assured him. "It's really not an issue if you're that tight on funds. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Maybe not for _you_ , but anyway, you shouldn't have to do that. You don't even know me and I'm sure you're not super fond of me right now."

Lance wasn't going to object to that.

"You have... dietary issues." Keith reddened again at the mention of his flawed digestive system. "Consider it a necessary evil, if you want to. My mom would have my head if she knew I let you go hungry for the whole night."

Keith made a sour face at that. Like he had something against _moms_ , of all things. He was a grouchy guy in general, so maybe he found most subjects distasteful. Lance prodded at him for a little while anyway. Long enough to get him to capitulate, with an irritated huff, to Lance's manic chant about the dining room.

"I'll go if you never fucking do that at me or any other human being again," he'd said before storming out into the hallway without even waiting for Lance. "Feel like I've been _cursed_ ," he muttered to no one in particular. That made Lance laugh. As the youngest sibling in his family, he had learned his various methods of persuasion many years ago. He had a different one for any possible occasion. And sometimes there was no other option but to terrify people into submission.

Lance pursued Keith into the hallway and went out of his way to piss him off by beating him to the elevator and pressing the button first.   
  


* * *

  
The hotel restaurant was decent. Nothing fancy, and not spectacular, but decent. And as Lance had guessed, it did have a wider range of menu items, so Keith was able to order something that would go easy on his intestines without any trouble.

Keith behaved himself as they waited for their food. Lance talked, usually just stating the obvious about the hotel or making casual observations, while Keith grunted occasionally or responded in one-to-three word sentences. He actually did look pretty nervous. He kept sneaking glances at the other diners, like he was expecting to find that he was being stared at. Lance tried to take notice of when he did that and would find some excuse to get his attention. Even if it was with something as flimsy as "hey, look at this fancy cloth napkin". He got the feeling that Keith knew he was doing that on purpose, but obliged him anyway.

The food arrived. Lance dug right in. Keith was hesitant to do so, but once he'd deemed it acceptable it seemed obvious that he had, in fact, been very hungry. He looked less tense as the calories kicked in.

Keith was silent throughout dinner, for the most part. He looked like he wanted to say something once or twice. And there were a couple of instances where Lance caught Keith looking at him, but he'd quickly return his gaze to his plate as soon as Lance tried to meet his eyes. Once, Lance was sure he was working up to something, maybe an admission of some kind, but watched as he abandoned the idea with a shake of his head.

"I miss my mom's cooking," Lance said absently, thinking that was a normal enough thing to say. "What kind stuff does yours make?"

"Do they have a bar menu?"

Keith blatantly ignored that conversation starter. Lance wouldn't risk breaching it again. He handed over the slip of paper on his side of the table.

"How about we make a little toast?"

"You already had a cocktail."

"...Right." When the waiter arrived to ask what Keith wanted to drink, Lance asked him if it was possible to get more soda, but served in one of the fancy glasses. The man seemed unimpressed by that request, to say the least, but said he would fulfill it nonetheless. Lance did a little victory cheer.

He tried prying more information out of Keith while they waited for the drinks.

"So are you my age or not?"

"I don't know how old you are."

"I'm twenty-one. Just barely."

"Then I'm older than you. I'm twenty-two. ...Just barely."

Keith squirmed in his seat. Like he was being held hostage or something. Lance changed the subject.

"What do you wanna do when we get back to the room?"

"I was just going to get back to work."

"It's not cooperating with you, right?" Keith frowned, likely at the fact that it had been so obvious that Lance had been able to tell. "Sometimes you have to step away from it for a while and look at with fresh eyes. It's what I do with essays."

"It's not like that."

"Then what IS it like?"

"I don't know what to say in the first place."

"Is it an assignment? You're in college, right?"

"It's not for school." Keith fumbled for words for a minute. "...If I put you on the spot _right now_ , this second, could you explain to me everything you love about your mother and why? Could you say anything that would do it justice? Something that would make her understand that you really mean it?"

Lance's eyebrows raised.

"Probably not," he answered. "But if it's for something like that then I don't think it has to be 'good enough'. It's not like she doesn't already understand that I love her. And you can't really script that sorta thing, you know? You just have to be honest. You're probably overthinking it."

Keith mulled that over, looking at his now-empty plate.

"Maybe you're right," he mumbled.

He didn't say anything more on the subject. Lance assumed that he was trying to write some kind of letter. Probably not any of his business.

"When we get back we should just watch a movie," Lance suggested. "Clear your head of the other stuff for a little while."

"Alright."

Lance hadn't expected _that_ , either. Keith was kind of funny in a weird way. He didn't really sugar-coat anything, positive or negative. He just said it. The waiter arrived with the drinks and collected their empty plates, and Lance raised his glass, looking expectantly at Keith. He'd mellowed out enough that he seemed to be down with playing along with Lance for a minute or two. Keith contemplated his toast for a long while.

"...To a mini-vacation provided by a really shitty airline," he proposed. Lance laughed brightly at that one. 

"To the shitty airline!"

They clinked their glasses together.

Maybe the delay wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

There weren't a lot of good movies available. Lance spent a while going through them, getting more and more frustrated by the low quality. He caught Keith opening his laptop out of the corner of his eye. 

"Put that away," he commanded. He'd forbidden Keith from touching that letter-thing for the rest of the night and Keith had told him to screw off, but Lance was enforcing it anyway.

"You haven't even picked a movie!"

"Put it away or I'm ordering pay-per-view porn."

"I'll sleep in the hallway if you do that."

Lance gave him a look. Keith realized that that might be considered a win for Lance and begrudgingly put the laptop away again. Lance laughed maliciously. Like a super-villain. Because he really _was_ holding Keith hostage in a way.

They settled on some horror b-movie. Even if those weren't good, they were at least funny most of the time, whether that was intentional or not. Keith was the type to drone things at the characters, from "are you an idiot?" to "don't go in there" to "I can't wait until this guy dies". Lance made a game of trying to predict what would happen next. These kinds of things were pretty formulaic and predictable. One of the jumpscares did get him, though, and Keith had no intention of letting him forget it.

Shortly after the movie was finished, it got dark out. A bit early of a time to turn in by Lance's standards, but not unusual. Keith had to be up in the morning to catch his flight. Not _early_ , but still. Morning. Lance's flight wasn't until the afternoon. Keith reluctantly promised that he'd set his alarm as quietly as he could to avoid waking Lance and that he would try not to make a lot of noise in the event that Lance chose to sleep in. Still, it meant that Lance couldn't stay up as late as he would have liked to lest he keep his roommate up and deprive him of getting any sleep. He felt like Keith would kill him if he did that.

With all of that in mind, they decided to turn in. That dreaded moment had arrived.

"I'm gonna change and stuff. Gotta remember to put on my mask," Lance said, yawning. He always yawned right after deciding to go to bed. More psychological than anything else. Keith raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mask?"

"For my skin. Keeps me glowing or something like that. What, you think that's weird?"

Keith shook his head.

"I think it's weird that so many men think it's _gay_ to take care of their skin or use basic hygiene. ...Besides that, I use a leave-in thing for my hair."

"Makes sense if you're gonna keep it that long."

"Yeah. Brushing it used to be a nightmare."

They parted ways. Lance did as he had said he would, making sure to brush his teeth again. He always opted for 'pajamas' that could pass as lazy clothes. That way, if he didn't feel like getting dressed first thing in the morning, he could walk around anyway. That would probably come in handy at a hotel. He exchanged places with Keith to let him take care of his nightly routine, burying himself under the comforter and the sheet. He wasn't used to using one of those and it took some fiddling around to get used to it. The bed looked significantly less neat by the time Keith returned.

As Keith made sure that all of his things were put away, Lance studied him, blinking in confusion.

"Aren't you gonna change?" he asked. Keith furrowed his brow at him over his shoulder as he zipped up his laptop bag.

"What are you talking about?"

"Pajamas, obviously!"

Keith shrugged, turning to face Lance properly.

"I don't have any."

"You—" Lance sputtered, choking on his words before he could get them out. "What do you MEAN, you don't have any pajamas?!"

"I... I mean that I didn't pack any, obviously? Not that I usually wear them anyway."

"Are you telling me that you sleep in your clothes like some kind of _monster?_ "

Keith scoffed. Lance saw his patience wear away once more, effectively undoing the last couple of hours of near-peace.

"What do you care what I sleep in?!"

"It's just weird!"

"LOOK— I have a terrible sleep schedule, okay? I tend to pass out in whatever I'm wearing. Or I fall asleep so late that I wake up with literal minutes to spare before I'm supposed to be someplace, and... it's just easier to sleep in my clothes. I don't owe you an explanation."

Keith huffed before he climbed into bed and tried pulling the covers over himself. Lance could hear the sound of denim against the fine Egyptian cotton and it made his skin crawl. That, and Keith insisted on staying as close to the edge of the mattress as he could, so that he was nearly falling off. Everything about it made Lance uncomfortable. Just looking at it. It was like he could feel it. He groaned and threw the comforter off. Keith glared at him in protest.

"That's it, I can't take it. I can't take it! I'm giving you something and you're gonna wear it and shut up."

"I'm not wearing your clothes! That's... _that's_ weird!"

"Dude, sleeping in jeans should be a CRIME," Lance yelled from the corner of the room, where he'd already attacked his suitcase and wrenched it open. "I can't even stand to look at it. Literally. It's making my bones ache just thinking about it."

"It's really not that bad once you're used to it."

"Nobody should get used to that! It's a sin against god."

"Don't be so melodramatic—"

"Against GOD, Keith."

Lance emphasized that claim with a hard throw of the pair of sweatpants he had balled up. It hit Keith right in the face. Lance froze for a moment, thinking that maybe he'd pushed the limits of this guy's patience and that Keith was going to lunge across the room and strangle him to death any second now. But instead, Keith exhaled very loudly and studied the fabric, apparently contemplating putting them on after all. Lance was sure that the soft fabric must have been tempting compared to rigid denim.

He tossed over a long-sleeved t-shirt as well— one of those faded ones with the stretched-out hems used exclusively for sleeping or working out— and then marched back over to the bed. Keith hadn't moved yet. Lance made an impatient clicking sound at him. Keith rolled his eyes, but got up. He didn't bother going all the way to the bathroom to change. Even though he'd been so paranoid about a bathing suit earlier. Lance kept his eyes to himself as soon as he realized what was going on, but he _did_ catch a glimpse of Keith's belly and noted that he probably worked out somewhat regularly.

Maybe I _should_ calm down, Lance thought, because I'm pretty sure he could beat the shit out of me if he wanted to. Lance wasn't exactly scrawny, either, but he didn't want to take his chances.

Keith pulled the t-shirt down with noticeable flair before he threw his arms out at his sides as if presenting himself.

"There. 'Pajamas'. Are you happy? Can I go to bed now?!"

"I'm very happy. Now get in here."

"Don't say it like that!"

Lance apparently couldn't resist being a little shit for just a little while longer. He patted the mattress and grinned as maliciously as he could.

"Join me, won't you, sweetheart?"

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep." 

That was a legitimate threat, but Lance snickered anyway. Keith had the perfect face for those kinds of insults. He had full eyebrows that were very noticeable when they were lowered to form stern lines above his oddly-colored eyes.

Keith climbed into bed again. He still insisted on hovering by the edge, but maybe that was perfectly normal. He really didn't know Lance and Lance wasn't too keen on the idea of spooning with strangers either. Lance moved to turn off his lamp, but stopped. He thought for a moment. Then, he shook his head.

"Hey, Keith—"

"Don't even fucking _start_ —"

"I'm sorry."

Keith froze in the middle of sliding down to lay his head on his pillow, his mouth still open. He closed it a bit too tight as he studied Lance's face for some sign that he was joking.

"That's... not what I was expecting."

Lance crossed his arms and looked away. He did want to apologize, and he was being serious, but he DID still have his pride and he wasn't happy about it. Did _anybody_ like apologizing? The act itself always seemed to feel terrible.

Sure, Keith had been a bit of an asshole, but so had Lance. And even with the air of hostility between them they'd still had a few laughs. Keith really wasn't that bad and Lance thought that, maybe, he owed the guy a chance. The worst that could happen would be Keith rejecting his apology, in which case they'd be back to where they had started anyway.

"Well, whatever, I'm— I've been kind of a dick, but it's not you. Mostly. I'm just mad. Got a lot going on and this whole thing has been a total pain and I've been taking it out on you, and that's not fair."

Lance risked a glance at Keith from the corner of his eye, only opening one. Keith wasn't glaring at him anymore, at the very least. He was actually kind of cute, Lance thought. When he wasn't making sour faces. ...Actually, the pout was cute. Not the glare. The pout. They were different things.

"It HAS been a pain." Keith sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut, like he was bracing himself for some kind of impact. "... _Fine_. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been so nasty. ...Call it a truce?"

"Yeah, truce. I—" Lance's voice caught in his throat and he sucked in air to hold back the shout at the tip of his tongue. Keith had extended a hand to shake his, like a little pact. "Take— _take your fucking gloves off_."

Lance had been so bewildered to see them— those fingerless gloves that he'd thought people had stopped wearing in 2012— that he hadn't been able to hold that request back. He didn't know how he hadn't noticed them earlier, but he wasn't going to let Keith sleep in gloves, either. That, too, was a sin.

Keith stared at him, looked down at his hands, and then he finally laughed. The surprised kind of laugh. It was a surprisingly light sound. Raspy, like his voice, but sweet. Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Keith removed his gloves. They shook hands.

All was well. For now, anyway. With the way that everything had gone that day Lance wasn't going to get his hopes up TOO much. Not yet. But for now, at least, he had made something like a friend, or perhaps something akin to a temporary ally. And that was a hell of a lot more than he had expected to find when he'd been told his flight was delayed.  
  


* * *

  
Lance _tried_ to sleep.

He really did.

Keith, too, but he'd been up front about not being very good at the whole "sleeping" thing to begin with. It was impossible to sleep when the neighbors— whoever the hell they shared a wall with— were being so loud. Lance couldn't make out the words enough to tell what they were fighting about, but it was a hell of an argument. Lance tried not to giggle as he looked at Keith glaring at the ceiling with his pillow wrapped over his ears.

"I could call the front desk," Lance offered through a yawn. "File a complaint."

" _Hah_. Snitch."

"Hey, it's better than confronting strangers. And we can't be the only people they're bugging."

"I have a knife. I can take 'em."

"...I'm gonna pretend that you're joking." Lance was sure that Keith wasn't joking, though, because Keith's voice had betrayed that much. He'd said that with a strangely dark note. Lance grabbed the phone and pulled it as close to himself as he could. Keith whined.

"Someone else must have already done that by now, right?"

"Then it can't hurt. You can just sit there, but I can't listen to this anymore."

Lance did what he could. The receptionist said they'd send someone right away. And they were true to their word. Lance heard the pounding on a door out in the hallway, and then the fight became something made up of angry fake-whispers that he could only barely detect. Keith made some kind of blissful sound. The quiet, after all that, was definitely nice.

They tried to sleep again. This time they had the quiet that they required to do so. But sleep was a funny thing. Sometimes a delay could throw everything off, and they'd _definitely_ had a delay. A delay was the definition of the death of an early sleep, apparently, for a noted insomniac like Keith and someone like Lance who couldn't clear his head of its constantly racing thoughts without giving it his best effort.

Lance sat up in bed so quickly that Keith flinched. Lance readjusted himself so that he was lying comfortably with his arms folded behind his head, and then he looked over at Keith. He smiled an awkward, lopsided smile. And at nothing, apparently, because Keith wasn't looking at him.

"I'm not taking up too much space, am I?"

"No." Keith's eyes flickered open. "Not as much as my huge dog, anyway."

"You have a dog?"

"Yeah. Not sure what he is, but he's massive. Probably lonely in the kennel right now."

"Did you adopt him?"

"From the shelter, yeah. Name's Kosmo. 'Cause his fur is bluish."

"So, uh, what are you traveling alone for?"

Keith whistled, readjusting himself in a way that made it look like he actually planned on falling asleep in the next few minutes. A bit dramatic, this _Keith_ fellow.

"You're just _that_ bored, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Keith looked a bit embarrassed, for some reason, and shrugged.

"I... I don't know. People don't really try and start conversations with me all that often. And people are never as persistent as you are. I kinda keep to myself."

Lance was glad that Keith was insisting on pretending to sleep, for the moment, because the smirk on his face must have been a really obnoxious one.

"Maybe that's because you carry knives around?" It probably had more to do with Keith's resting bitch-face, but Lance knew people couldn't help that and couldn't resist the dig.

"It's not like I have it in plain sight!" Keith groaned. "I just— I'm not good at it. Small talk. I guess."

"...Why?"

"What, now you wanna be my therapist?"

"Just curious. Come on. I'm bored. Tell me about you. If you relax it might help you fall asleep."

"Do I have to do all the talking?"

"No. We can just talk until one of us falls asleep, or you can ask me whatever." Lance grinned. "I'll have you know that I'm actually _very_ funny."

"I'm sure you are."

There was a pause. Keith looked at him (finally), and then he looked at the ceiling, and then he looked down at his now-bare hands and fiddled with his fingernails.

"Okay," Keith relented. "I, uh... I'm heading out overseas for my brother's wedding."

"A wedding! That's exciting."

"I... guess so."

He was mumbling, but he was talking loud enough for Lance to understand him. Keith really wasn't used to small talk, for whatever reason. He wouldn't make eye contact for more than a half-second. Lance tried lying down a bit more and looking at the ceiling fan, and that seemed to disarm him. Some people were just uncomfortable with eye contact.

"So, your brother, huh? Older or younger?"

"Older. By a lot. He took care of me."

"What do you mean by that? I mean, I'm the baby of the family, but my siblings only ever looked after me if my parents had to be away a while."

"...I-I'm too tired. I don't wanna get into all that."

Lance knew what he meant by that. For whatever reason, people got strangely honest when they were tired. Anyone who'd been awake at a sleepover past midnight knew that much. Once the clock struck twelve conversations got VERY personal, like literal clockwork. It would go from laughter and pillow fights to people crying about their childhood pets and recurring nightmares without much warning.

"Well, hey, it's not like you have to see me every day. Consider this your opportunity to vent. How about that?"

"I don't need to vent."

"Sure you do. You're talking about a wedding like it's a funeral."

"I'm not—" Keith jerked upward a bit and shook his head. "That's not true! I'm happy for him. I'm just nervous. That's all."

"Why?"

"I don't know? I just haven't seen him a while! A-And I haven't met the fiancé."

There was a long silence. Keith didn't intend to elaborate. Lance knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he found that he was curious about this guy all of a sudden. He wanted to know more about him. To help, even.

Maybe he could do that by relieving some of the pressure on him.

"...I've got four siblings. All older. Two brothers and two sisters."

Keith gave him that little pout. Lance felt his mouth twist upwards at one corner despite himself.

"That's... a lot."

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I guess it means you don't get as much expensive stuff as your friends do and you can't go on a lot of vacations or anything like that, but I wouldn't trade it for anything." Lance laughed softly, and he was sure he looked pretty sappy for a moment or two. "Actually, it's kinda funny— I'm used to sharing a bed. Not with strangers, but, you know."

"You, uh, had to share with your siblings?"

"Yeah. Our first house was technically pretty small. Not big enough for all four of us and my parents and my grandparents and my aunt and uncle.”

"You live with that many people?" Keith looked almost terrified to hear that. Lance smiled.

"Well, yeah. Even more now that my oldest brother's married with two kids. The whole family tries to stick together. And everybody pitches in."

Keith tugged at the end of his hair. Some kind of nervous tic, Lance guessed.

"I, uh, can't imagine that. Having that many people."

"When you learn to stick to your own space it's really not that crowded—"

"I meant in general." Keith voice was small and soft. "My brother is, um. He's it, really."

"What about your parents?" Keith shrugged. And that was one of the most depressing things Lance had seen in a while. "Do you have any?"

"Somewhere, probably. My brother's _technically_ not... well, we're not blood-related. We just met in the home and spent most of our time together."

 _Jesus Christ_ , Lance thought. 'The home'. He now felt extra bad about being such a dick earlier.

"Like a group home? For foster kids?"

"Yeah, one of those. Nobody ever wanted either one of us."

"I— _Shit_. That's horrible."

"It's... not all bad. The home was actually pretty decent. Not one of those shady ones full of mean kids that you see in movies, you know? The workers were nice to me, and I met Shiro there, so I can't really complain. It'd be cool to have an actual _family_ family, and I wouldn't argue with having some more money, but I'm lucky to have what I have."

"Shiro's your brother?" Lance wasn't going to call him a half-brother or a pseudo-brother or an adopted brother, because those qualifiers didn't really matter. His siblings were his siblings because they'd spent their whole lives together and because he could rely on them for just about anything, not because they'd happened to come from the same parents. So Keith's brother was his brother.

"Uh-huh. It's a nickname, but it's what everybody calls him, so."

" _Shiro's_ not a typical nickname." Lance had never heard it, anyway.

"It's short for his last name. He was more used to that than his first name."

"I guess some places are like that." Lance's soccer team friends in school had almost always used his last name. Keith chuckled at something.

"Kinda funny, really... Literally the only reason Shiro noticed me and started sticking up for me is because everybody kept pronouncing my name wrong and he knew."

"How does one mispronounce _Keith?_ "

"No, no, my LAST name. Everyone kept calling me _Co-gain_ when I first got to that home. He knew that wasn't right because of the look on my face, and he'd gotten called _Shiro-gain_ enough times to know."

"If it's not _Co-gain_ , it's..."

" _Ko-gah-neh_. It's Japanese. Shirogane is similar."

Lance nodded. That was where "Shiro" came from. 

"Ah. If it was pronounced that other way we'd have rhyme-y names." Keith gave Lance a questioning look. Lance pointed at himself with his thumb. "McClain."

"Oh." Keith laughed nervously at that. "Well, uh, the point is that Shiro's been there for me since I was around six. He was already fourteen. He'd been moved around between group homes his whole life because he kept outgrowing them."

Lance frowned at that. He couldn't picture what it would be like to be a teenager and have no idea who his parents were, or to continue going home to a big group of people connected by little more than the common thread of abandonment. Cared for by people who did it because they were getting paid to do so. Provided for by charities and government money. Keith could insist it was alright all he wanted, but it was definitely a sad way to grow up as far as Lance was concerned.

"Some of my siblings are a lot older than me. I'm closest to my oldest sister, I'd say. It's kinda like having a backup parent, right? You can go to them about stuff and tell them when you're in trouble without having to worry about getting punished."

Keith smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, you get it. He could play with me like any other brother, but he could also pick me up and carry me around without any trouble, and eventually he had a job and a car and could drive me places." Keith flashed a cheeky grin. "Some of the other kids were jealous. He'd take me to the corner store and get me ice cream and Pokémon cards."

"Sounds like a solid brother."

Keith's smile faded.

"...He's more than that, though. He had his own stuff to worry about, but he took me under his wing even though I was a pain in the ass to deal with. He's worked... he's worked really hard. To take care of me. He didn't have to do any of that, but he did it anyway."

"So Shiro's done a lot for you."

"He has. ...Eventually he got to leave the home, but he stayed close by and went to school. And then he got recruited by this overseas company. He didn't wanna leave me behind, so he said he wouldn't accept the offer, but... I made him take it. It was too big of an opportunity and he was really excited about it. I couldn't let him throw that away for me, even if it meant I was gonna be alone for a while." 

"...Wow." Lance was impressed to hear that. He didn't know if he could have done the same thing. If he could have sent his only family away, even if it was for their own happiness. "Honestly, man, I don't know if I could have done that. But you did the right thing, and that's really admirable. Really."

"Uh. Thanks." Keith scratched the back of his head and refused to look in Lance's direction. Lance's smile kept widening. He was starting to find Keith really endearing. He made sense to him now. "A-Anyway, I've been in school for a couple of years now. I had trouble getting in for a little while because my grades weren't great and we don't exactly have a lot of money. Shiro and I talk over the phone or webcam whenever we can. And the plan was for him to get promoted so he could move back to the states, and then we were gonna get a place together. So we could be a real family, you know?"

"...But now that he's engaged..."

" _Exactly_." Keith sighed a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "He might even decide to stay there, and if he does come back he'll be bringing someone else. Somebody I don't really know. I don't... I don't wanna be selfish here. But it's so _fast_ , too. I didn't even know he was seriously dating and now he's engaged? Why didn't he tell me?"

"Maybe he didn't wanna get your hopes up. People don't usually introduce their significant others to family until they know it's really serious. And I guess it got really serious really fast. Maybe he feels like he found whatever he was missing."

"I guess so. And, I mean, I've heard his fiancé is nice, but if you don't know somebody all that well they can have a dark side that you don't know is there until their true colors come out. It can be years before you know what a person's really like. I don't know that I could trust somebody that much that fast. A-And maybe that's just my problem, but... but still."

It wasn't exactly hard to imagine why Keith wouldn't be all that trusting. Even if the home had been nice, not having parents to fall back on meant a child would definitely have to be a bit more alert than the average kid. And he'd been taught early that even family doesn't always stick around.

"Sure, you may not know this person, but your brother's a smart guy, right?" Lance reminded him. "Would he marry her if he didn't know she was—"

"He."

"Wha?"

"Shiro's gay too— runs in the hypothetical family, I guess. His fiancé is a he."

"Oh. Oh! Right. Guess I shouldn't have assumed. S-Still, Shiro's... I mean, think about what you said before. About the way you guys have lived so far. He's probably had to make a lot of tough decisions, right? And he's probably had to pass on things he wants plenty of times."

Keith frowned, looking very tender in that moment as some memory flashed before his eyes.

"You have _no idea_." Keith shook his head. "He's always had to do whatever's best for us. Barely got to be a kid."

"Exactly. So, chances are... if he's doing this it's because it's what he really wants and he knows that. He didn't get to do that kind of thing before and now he does. But more importantly than that, he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your happiness, would he? He's always put you first. He wouldn't have tried to give up his dream job for you otherwise."

"That's true..."

"Hell, even if he IS making a stupid decision, and even if he does end up regretting it, it's... not like it's because he doesn't love you anymore. Even our heroes can make mistakes. Maybe he should have told you earlier and shouldn't have sprung this on you so quick, but he isn't perfect."

"Guess that's one of the first things you realize when you grow up, huh? ...That nobody really knows what the fuck they're doing." Keith chuckled, sounding a little sad. "Maybe... I guess this guy, whoever he is, could be really special. Shiro's never really gotten a chance to do a lot of dating."

"Maybe he found _the one_."

"I hope so." There was a pause as Keith spared a glance in Lance's direction and gave him a thankful little smile before turning away again. "...It should be nice, anyway. Beach wedding. That could suck, though. Sand is annoying. It sticks everywhere—"

"Calm down, Anakin."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Keith punched Lance in the arm. He was trying to look mad, but Lance heard that hoarse laugh even over his own loud one. As soon as he'd regained the ability to breathe Lance decided to focus on that. On the happier aspects of things.

"The beach, huh. My kind of place. Where ARE you headed anyway? Is it, like, Hawaii, or...?"

"Cuba."

At that, Lance's eyes lit up.

"You're kidding," he chuckled. Keith gave him an apprehensive side-eye.

"No. I set off from South Dakota and the only flight combination that would get me there in time connects here."

"Oh, no, it's not that— that's where I'm from. Me and my family."

Keith was visibly stunned.

"R... Really?"

"Yeah, totally! We moved up to Miami when I was still pretty young for my dad's work, but we usually go back over the summers," Lance explained.

"That's... wow. Weird."

"Where in Cuba are you headed?"

Keith's brow scrunched up as he thought. It was getting a bit late and they were both tired, so his memory was no longer functioning at a hundred percent.

"Well, the airport I had to go with is in Havana, but after that I have to take a long bus ride to some seaside resort kinda town. _Varadero_ , I think? I'm sure I'm not pronouncing that right, but—" Lance's burst of laughter and clap of his hands interrupted Keith, who shook his head. "...Don't tell me."

"I'm not even joking! You're headed to my hometown."

They both laughed for a while about the stacking coincidences. Keith had questions for him once he'd recovered.

"What's it like there? I've never been out of the country before at all, much less to Cuba..."

Lance's eyes must have sparkled at that. He didn't get a lot of excuses to talk about home, but he snatched up any opportunity that came his way to preach the gospel of Varadero.

"Oh, it's GORGEOUS. Varadero's popular with tourists for a reason. It's right on the beach, and it's always sunny, and the water looks like something out a brochure. Sand's almost white. Food's fantastic, too. If you get a chance you have to stop by this one pizza place— they're always changing the name, but it's right on this little hilltop overlooking the water and they have the BEST garlic knots in the whole world. I'm telling you. And next to that, there's this little gift shop— of course, I'm talking about the part of town where we lived, so it's not in tourist central, or we wouldn't have been able to afford it. Really, though, half of the best stuff is stuff no travel agency will tell you about, so..."

Keith listened intently, nodding occasionally, as Lance went on and on and on about his hometown. He didn't get a chance to do that very often. He promised Keith that come morning, he'd teach him some Spanish words and phrases that should help him during his stay. Cuban slang, more specifically, because he swore it would instantly make him more popular with shopkeepers and hotel staff. After a while he noticed that Keith was smiling for no particular reason. It made him feel a bit less embarrassed about getting so carried away. Keith actually sounded excited about the Spanish thing.

Lance realized something while he was rambling, too—he'd always thought that Keith was cute ("always" was only a matter of hours, but still). Maybe that was why he had taken things so personally early on. He'd wanted to get closer to Keith, because he found him attractive and had a feeling that they had more in common than he would let on, and he'd been spurned instead. It was nice to know that he'd been right all along. Keith was a surprisingly chill guy once you got him to let his guard down, and considering what he'd been talking about, he couldn't fault the guy for having those walls up.

"Well, it sounds pretty great," Keith admitted once Lance was done. Lance gave him a little nudge on his shoulder.

"So you're looking forward to it now?"

"...Yeah," Keith admitted. "Yeah, I am. ...Thanks."

"Hey, it's no problem."

Lance had started to settle down into his pillow, satisfied with what he'd accomplished, when he heard Keith's voice again.

"So, uh, what about you? Where are you headed?"

Lance stiffened. He'd kind of been hoping that Keith wouldn't ask him that. That their conversation would have totally erased that thought from his mind. He didn't want to admit to his own reasons for traveling because they felt so trivial now, so _nothing_ compared to what Keith was dealing with.

"O-Oh, uh, I just decided to take a break from school to go see the family. They're still in Miami." 

Keith frowned at him. Lance laughed nervously.

"That's a lie. You would have just waited for break if you just wanted to see them. You're gonna make me give you my whole life story and you won't even tell me where you're going?"

"I—" Lance sighed. "I AM going to Miami, it's just... kinda complicated, I guess. I dunno."

He was going to leave it at that, but he could feel Keith staring at him even when he wasn't looking. He had a pretty intense gaze.

"Complicated _how?_ " Keith asked, his tone expectant. Lance knew he didn't really have a choice here. He settled in against his pillow, prepared for what might end up being a long monologue.

"Okay, uh. So I've been studying at Garrison Tech up in New York—"

"Really?" Keith sounded surprised, but Lance wouldn't fault him for that. He knew how he came across. He was always joking around and acting like a goofball, so it tended to surprise people that he did know when to be serious and how to focus. "That's a really good school."

"It is, yeah. I had to work my ass off to get in there. It was all I cared about for years. Gave up sports and extracurriculars and everything. ...Had to give up a lot. I used to work at the pool every summer and work as a lifeguard and hang out with the kids, but I ditched that too so I could study and take extra classes even over summer break."

"That's a lot of dedication."

"Definitely. I wanted to be the one to get a BIG job, you know? And then I could help my family out. We were never poor, but there are so many of us that funds run tight from time to time. So after all that I managed to graduate top of my class, and then I signed in with Garrison Tech on a STEM scholarship to study aerospace engineering. I'm supposed to be working towards developing stuff. Planes and rockets and things."

"...Supposed to be," Keith repeated. Lance squirmed. Keith was catching on, he thought.

"Well, yeah. That was the plan."

"But now you have a different plan?"

"I, uh..." Lance tried to think of how to phrase his admission. Nothing quite did it justice like just coming out and saying it. "I fuckin' hate it. I _hate it!_ Everything about it, I hate it."

"The major or the school?"

"Both, if you'll believe that."

Lance had managed to avoid thinking about it for a while now. And now that he'd been reminded, he grimaced and rubbed his temples. He saw Keith pout again out of the corner of his eye, and that did make it a little bit harder to be genuinely upset.

"...What is it about it that you hate so much?"

"Well, for one thing the school is just the _worst_. Everyone's a rich elitist, the teachers seem like they don't care about life at all, and even the decent people are so stressed about tests all the time that they don't have time to socialize and could really use a nap. That and the accusations— a few too many people like to assume that I'm there because they _had_ to let me in and not because I actually earned the grades." Keith scoffed at that notion. "That, and I've never been good at math. I can't _stand_ math. I didn't realize there was gonna be so much of it, I guess. At a certain point even all the 'science' involves a bunch of numbers and formulas and shit. I... I could tolerate it when I was doing it just to get into school, but now it's like my whole life. Could I really stand doing a job like that?"

"You don't want to end up like the people at that school and you're afraid you'll get stuck in a job you hate."

"Yeah. And I'm sure a lot of people don't like their jobs, but I can already feel myself changing. I don't wanna end up a totally joyless adult who lives just to pay the bills. Maybe that's selfish of me, though." Lance shrugged. "I... I guess I ran away? I didn't really think about it. I just decided I couldn't take it anymore, bought a plane ticket, packed my shit, and ran out. ...My family doesn't even know I'm on my way."

Keith seemed so startled to hear that last bit that he didn't reply right away. Lance watched as Keith opened and closed his mouth a few times, testing words on his tongue before he settled on something to say.

"I don't— I don't think it's selfish to want to be happy. I-I mean, I know I'm being kinda hypocritical here, of course, but... it just doesn't make any sense to pursue something you can't stand. Would you even be any good at your job if you hate it? Would you want a doctor who hates his job to operate on you, or would you want one that actually gives a damn?"

Lance hummed in thought.

"That... I guess I'd want the guy who gives a damn, but it's just— I wanted to— it's family." Lance made a wide gesture at that word. It was a big, important word. "I'm talking about _family_ here; you know all about that even if it's only the one guy. I'm..." for a moment, Lance wasn't sure how to voice his frustration, but the words burst out of him before he could think of a clever phrasing. "I'm the one that MADE IT! I was supposed to make it big, bring home enough money to take care of everybody! You should have seen the party my parents threw when they found out I'd gotten into Garrison. My mom cried, told me she was so proud of me, said she brags about me all the time... what am I thinking here? I'll break her heart."

Keith gave him a sympathetic look.

"...I know I wouldn't want to let Shiro down..."

"Exactly. And I'd be letting _everybody_ down."

"But why say all of this NOW? You already made up your mind, right? You left. You're on your way back home."

That was true. And Lance had been certain of his decision. He'd been certain until his first flight got delayed, and then even less so when he had been told that he couldn't get another flight until the next day. He had been relying on impulsivity and momentum and his bad luck had stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to think about it for a bit longer than he had.

"...Maybe I should get a return flight," he wondered aloud. "Forget this whole thing happened. Maybe this whole screwup was supposed to be a sign! The delay, having to share a room— I mean, how often does _that_ happen?!"

"Not often. Maybe it DID happen for a reason. ...That reason being this conversation. So I could tell you to stick with your gut. If we're going with fate and all that." Lance wasn't sure how to respond to that one, so he didn't right away. Keith continued on. "You keep saying you're _supposed_ to do this stuff. Were you ever even doing it because it's what you wanted to do? Or was it just because you thought you could pull it off?"

"I don't know. I was interested in rockets and in space, at least, and I knew STEM was the thing people were after. For a while I thought maybe I'd be an astronaut or something. I thought I could pull it off. I thought that if I _could_ do it, I had to."

"But that's the thing. Even if you CAN do it, there's no point if it makes you miserable and you hate every second of your job. I-I mean, my field doesn't pay much at all, but it's what I really wanna do."

Lance hadn't expected that from Keith, but it was nice to know that he had something to work towards and aspire to. Lance had realized that he didn't have that and it left an unsatisfying pit in his stomach. He glanced over at him and hoped he wouldn't be lectured for changing the subject just a little bit.

"What are you studying?" He asked. It was, in any other context, an icebreaker of a question. This wasn't that context.

"Social work," Keith answered. That made sense. It wouldn't have when he'd first met a stranger who seemed angry for no reason. "I wanna help out with the foster care system if I can. I'd probably go for something lower on the ladder since I'm not so great with people, but... I get excited thinking about what I'll do after I graduate. I think that's what it's supposed to be like."

Lance smiled fondly at him, feeling strangely proud.

"I think you're better with people than you think you are. You just have to practice some more."

Keith blinked.

"You don't know—"

"I do, though. I've been talking to you for like an hour and I already like you a lot. I think a lot of people would if you'd just be honest."

Keith looked flustered for a half-second before he recovered.

"Don't change the subject." _Dammit. I've been called out_. "If you hated school enough to run away and blow so much money on a plane ticket, you're never gonna like it any more than you do now."

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but let it fall uselessly shut once more. Because he really didn't have an argument for that. As afraid as he was of explaining these things to his family, he knew he couldn't continue at Garrison Tech. Not on his major, anyway. It wasn't going to magically change for the better.

"I just... I just thought I knew what I wanted," Lance admitted quietly, feeling very foolish. Keith laughed, though it wasn't a mocking sort of sound.

"Maybe you did. But things change. All you can do is adapt to it. ...I think maybe it'll seem obvious once you get back home. Things are simpler."

Lance smiled.

"Yeah, they are." Unconditional love was a beautifully simple thing, he thought. And even if his family might be disappointed at first, that would never change— the fact that they loved him and only wanted what was best for him.

"...Do you know what you want to do instead?" Keith asked, seemingly out of nowhere. "Have you given that any thought?"

Lance tensed up. He hadn't actually said this part out loud before, and it felt stupid. It was just an inkling, really. An idea that felt so silly he'd been afraid to spare it any more conclusive thought than he already had thus far.

"It's... probably ridiculous. You'll laugh at me. I don't have any experience."

"I'm not gonna laugh, and that's what school is _for_. Come on, what is it?"

"...You know how schools always make you take some class that's not related to your major at all?"

Keith nodded, and he made a knowing sound. That was one of those things as universal as absurdly expensive textbooks that you only had to use twice, Lance guessed.

"Oh yeah. I have to take some weirdly specific history course."

"Well, mine wanted me to take an art-type class for some reason. _Arts and humanities_ or something. I didn't really care about it, so I figured I'd try the thing that seems the most fun, but I just-so-happened to pick a drama class. And I, uh... I actually like it. I like it a lot."

"Theater?"

"Not quite _theater_ so much as... I don't know. Performing? I like standing on a stage. I like thinking about how I'm going to liven up my character and I really like making people laugh."

"Maybe you ought to be a comedian." It was cute, the way that Keith was so openly eager to help now after being so hostile in the beginning. His brow scrunched up as he gave genuine thought to a perfect solution for Lance's undetermined career path. "And, I mean, there are actors that only do comedies. A lot of musicals are funny too— can you sing?"

"Apparently?" Lance didn't want to brag. For once. "I'd never really done that, not properly, but one of my little roles asked for it and I actually got a pretty good reaction. I guess I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Hadn't tried."

"If you can do it all, you could try out a bunch of different things until you find out what suits you. It... doesn't really surprise me that you'd be a good comedic actor, though. Your, uh. Gestures. They're pretty exaggerated. Cartoony, almost."

Lance laughed at that and gave Keith a very slight playful shove. He might have taken that as an insult if they were having a different conversation, or if he'd said that earlier, but he knew what Keith meant.

"I know, I know. I play it up for laughs. When I was a lifeguard I used to do that kind of thing for the kids all the time— I'd figure out how to use just about anything as a prop and do little skits for them, usually as part of the thing where you have to rattle off all the boring rules before a class. I was really good at pretending that something under the water had pulled me down."

"Wouldn't that just scare the kids?"

"When it was me, it didn't for some reason. I think they always knew I was messing around. The other person on duty would use it as an opportunity to explain what NOT to do."

"What if something had _really_ pulled you under?"

"...I'd have been screwed, probably." Lance giggled. He had never given that part much thought. He'd have been in a lot of trouble if an invisible shark had somehow spawned in the pool. 

They talked, for a little while longer, about Lance's potential paths, even as Keith's yawns grew more frequent. Keith was getting weirdly invested in it.

"Picture it," he said, more like a command than a suggestion. "You start off doing stand-up, gain a social media following, maybe get a Netflix special. Start a YouTube Channel and do skits and things. Experiment there, do whatever feels right. Eventually you get enough eyes on your stuff that you start doing movie roles. You move on to professional acting, get your own sketch comedy show, retire from that and start directing. Promote upcoming artists. Do your own thing."

"Are you suggesting I pull an elaborate Jordan Peele?" Lance asked through an incredulous laugh.

"That— yes. That."

Lance couldn't help but laugh at the notion that Keith was already putting him on the same fictitious stage as literal Academy Award winners, even if it was only in his imagination.

"And think about it!" Keith continued, a bit too loud. "How many entertainers produce stuff that's appropriate for the whole family without being coddling or a bore to watch for adults? You're good with kids and adults, so you could figure out how to blend a comedy style that everybody can enjoy."

"Is there even a market for that?"

"Sure there is. Have you seen some of the stuff they make for kids nowadays? I'd say there are a couple of companies that are usually pretty good, but we literally suffered through a movie about fucking _emojis_ of all things. And these days even the big guys just make those live-action cash grab remakes of whatever."

"That's... fair, yeah." Lance cringed at the memory of those trailers. "I feel like half of the animated movies that come out these days are cash grabs, and... why does a kid's movie _have_ to be animated, anyway? Why does animation have to be just for kids? ...I guess people are fine with making a mediocre product if they can excuse it as being something for children. Even though it's really condescending and we should be trying to teach them something."

"I think that might have been half the reason I was so _angry_ when I was a kid," Keith reminisced bitterly. "Because of the way that adults just _talk down to you_ , you know? I'd be by myself and some woman would ask me if my tummy hurts because I missed my snack-time or if I wanted to take a little nap and I'd be thinking 'no, _Brenda_ , I'm upset because I don't understand why my own parents didn't fucking want me'." Lance was VERY startled by that blunt phrasing, but it was fair. "Kids are dealing with a lot of stuff too. Just because they're not doing taxes yet doesn't mean they don't have real problems. Real concerns."

Lance hadn't pegged Keith as the type to like kids. And maybe that wasn't really the right word for it. Keith _sympathized_ with kids. He remembered what it was like to feel small and overlooked. Maybe he'd foster some kids of his own some day, Lance thought with a little smile. It would be a nice future for him. Balanced. He changed the subject slightly— back to the original topic, since they'd gotten sidetracked.

"I-I don't know, man," Lance said with audible uncertainty. "You're suggesting that I make myself into some kind of one-man show, or some kinda entertainment pioneer, and I just— what are the odds I could actually pull something like that off?"

"You got into Garrison Tech on a full STEM scholarship without even liking or being good at math. I don't think it's _that_ far-fetched."

Lance smiled. The slow kind that crept over him. That was sweet.

"...Maybe you're right."

Within moments, it seemed like Keith could barely keep his eyes open. Like his lids had become unbearably heavy and his best efforts to overcome that weight amounted to nothing. Lance watched that casual struggle with some mixture of awe and affection. It was the kind of thing that made a stranger unbearably human in an instant.

"I'm... pretty tired," he said, and Lance chuckled softly.

"I can see that."

"Um. Thanks. For the chat," he said, and Lance thought that 'chat' was a bit too casual of a word for the hour-long heart-to-heart they'd just had. Maybe Keith didn't know what the right word was. Lance certainly didn't. Keith managed a lazy smirk. "I guess you don't suck."

"Wow! Thanks!" Lance feigned offense, but laughed anyway. Keith, too, even if it was barely a sound.

"Trip wasn't so bad," Keith murmured against his pillow. Lance could hardly hear that part, but he smiled at him.

"Yeah," he agreed.

Keith fell asleep.

Lance wished that he'd stayed up a little bit longer, that he had managed to fight the pull of unconsciousness for just long enough. Long enough for Lance to tell him that he wanted to get up early enough to talk to him some more in the morning. That he wanted to take him down to the dining hall for breakfast. That he wanted to see him off when he left, maybe even go with him to the airport.

And as bummed as he was that he hadn't gotten a chance to say any of that, it occurred to him after a moment that he might not have had the guts anyway.

Besides that, there was always morning.   
  


* * *

  
Lance slept surprisingly well. 

Maybe that shouldn't have been a surprise, because he had a pretty cool person to share the bed with despite the inconvenience of it all and the hotel mattress was nicer and more plush than the one he had in his dorm.

He woke to sunlight filtering through the blinds, as they'd forgotten to close the blackout curtains, and the refreshing smell of clean sheets. He could hear distant traffic and soft breathing.

He felt something pressed against him.

Lance looked to his left and slightly downwards and smiled upon discovering that Keith, whether he knew it or not, was a little spoon. And that at some point in the night his more cuddly internal instincts had taken over. He should probably have woken him right away, but he took a minute or two to just... look.

"Hey." Lance gently shook him awake once he had recovered. Keith made a low groaning sound. "Your alarm's going off."

"Oh. ...Sorry." Keith sat up and turned the alarm off. He didn't acknowledge the spoon thing. "Thanks for waking me up. You can go back to sleep."

"No, I'll get up."

"You don't have—"

"I want to." Lance affectionately tapped Keith's shoulder. "I'll make us some coffee, alright?" He slid off of the mattress and stretched. "And _you_ can order us some breakfast."

"We can get breakfast delivered...?"

"Oh, yeah," Lance assured him. "It's all over the advertising. I think people wanna lounge around in the morning in hotels. Nobody wants to get up and get dressed just for breakfast, y'know?"

"...Yeah, I guess." Keith shrugged and stretched over to Lance's side of the bed, pulling the receiver along with him.

Lance spent a short while fiddling with the coffee machine in the tiny kitchenette before he figured out how it worked. It took him a while longer than he had expected it to. So he was surprised when he returned to the bedroom area to find that Keith was still glaring at the phone, knuckles turning white for how tightly they gripped the menu. Lance raised an eyebrow at him.

"Something wrong?"

Keith gave him a look, for a second, that Lance would describe as a half-glare. Like he was going to do it before he caught himself and amended it. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm... not great at phone calls."

"Stresses you out?"

"Uh-huh." Keith shook his head. "It's fine, though. You should keep an eye on the coffee pot—"

"Gimme the phone. I can do it."

"It's really not a big deal! It's just a phone call—"

Lance didn't give him any room to argue and snatched the receiver from his hand. There was no point in forcing the guy to do something that made him anxious. Lance wanted him to know that there wasn't any shame in that. 

"Yes, hello?" Lance said as soon as he heard the voice on the other end. The receptionist or room service or whatever you were supposed to call them. "Yes, we're in _room 202_ and we'd like to have our breakfast delivered." Lance was careful to emphasize the room number, putting on his best entitled tourist voice. He saw Keith chuckling at him. Lance sounded like the kind of guy that wore socks with sandals and complained about having to stand in lines like everybody else. But his emphasis of the room number worked, and the woman on the line sounded flustered as she assured Lance that their breakfast would be there shortly. Lance added a last-minute note about Keith's dietary needs. Keith touched a tender hand to his own chest and feigned a smitten kind of expression at that.

"You remembered," he cooed.

"Sure did! I don't wanna be responsible for causing you, uh, gastrointestinal distress."

"How thoughtful."

Lance moved to retrieve the coffee and pour it into two separate mugs. He had expected Keith to take his coffee black, but he surprised him by being exactly the opposite and wanting a whole bunch of sugar and creamer. Not quite as metal as he seemed, that Keith. Lance watched him seem to come alive as he got some caffeine into his system.

A silence. Lance tapped his fingers against his mug, though he was careful not to spill it, and thought. Keith finished the rest of his beverage and set the empty cup in his lap. 

"Listen," both men said at once. They stared one another down, startled. Lance gestured at Keith. "You— You go," he said. Keith huffed in a breath of air. 

"I'm sorry for being such a dick yesterday," Keith blurted out, and so quickly that it all came out as one word. He looked down. "I was just... grouchy. I'm not great with the social stuff anyway. Never have been. You know. _Reasons_. But—"

"You fucking asshole!" Keith, who had not expected that, froze and pouted at Lance. "I'M sorry for being such a dick yesterday," Lance emphasized, a hand on his chest. Keith sputtered.

"I'm apologizing!"

"No, I'M apologizing! I kinda started it!"

"No, you didn't! You were mad about the room, but you didn't say anything to me!"

They bickered, for at least a minute, about responsibility, and about who had thrown the first insult or the first glare. Lance ruined it by laughing.

"Man," he wheezed. "I wish I had more arguments like this one."

Keith, too, laughed at that, though he still looked anxious.

Breakfast arrived remarkably quickly. Possibly because Lance had reminded them which room they were delivering to in the way that he had. Lance carefully set the tray on the mattress after tossing the empty coffee mugs in the tiny sink. Apparently they were expected to eat on the bed since there wasn't a proper table. If they wanted to eat together, anyway. Lance was careful not to get crumbs on the comforter.

"This isn't an ideal system," Keith grumbled. 

"Yeah, the room is laid out weird." Lance gestured behind him. "Like, the kitchenette's big enough to move around in and separated by that little wall, right? But if you took out the wall, you could fit a table. I think people want practicality more than a pretty room."

"I just feel bad for the maid," Keith sighed. He was poking at his food with his fork and hadn't actually eaten anything.

"Well, we're leaving her a decent tip. Don't worry about it. Just eat." He squinted, just then realizing what he had forgotten. He'd finished his coffee long before breakfast had arrived and now he had no beverage. "Is there anything to drink...?"

"Oh no." Keith's face darkened. "The mini bar. The little fridge thing."

"Uh-oh." Even Keith apparently knew the tales of the mini bar. That those things were highway robbery. "There's a vending machine in the lobby. Maybe that would be cheaper?"

"You shouldn't have to run all the way down there."

"There's an elevator." 

"Still! Your food will get cold."

"Isn't that what the microwave is for?"

Keith groaned. He got up and wandered into the kitchen before Lance could ask what he was doing. Lance could hear him grunt as he crouched down, and he heard the little fridge door opening.

"It's... not _so_ bad, I guess? It's two dollars for a can of soda."

Lance wrinkled up his nose. Not even bottles?

"That's technically pretty high, but I'm thirsty enough to bite the bullet. Grab me a Pepsi if they have one."

"It's Coke products."

"Oh. ...That's fine, then."

When Keith returned with two cans of soda, he was giving Lance a flat, judgmental stare.

"People usually have the opposite problem, you know. People are usually disappointed by a lack of Coke products." Keith sighed and shook his head. _Yeah, sure, that makes me weird_ , Lance thought. _My preference for Pepsi products. Says the guy who sleeps in his clothes_. "Anyway, I can cover the drinks. I'm not THAT broke."

Lance held up his can. Keith somehow knew what he wanted. They tapped them together, like a toast, though neither bothered to propose one. The cans made Lance nervous, as they could easily tip over and spill all over the bed, but they seemed to sit flat enough on the tray. Still, he tried not to move around too suddenly.

Keith finally started eating. His pancakes looked different than Lance's. They were a bit less fluffy. Lance poked them with his fork to confirm it for himself. Keith stabbed the fork with his own, like they were fighting with swords or something.

"I just wanted to poke it! I wasn't gonna take any," Lance insisted. "It just looks... different."

"Probably the dairy thing. It's, like... I'd call it the wheat bread of pancakes."

"Is that bad?"

"Not really. Just different." Keith cut out a slice of the stack and held the fork out to Lance. "Here," he said, and very casually.

Lance gulped. Did he not know how blatantly romantic of a trope that was? He didn't seem like he watched a lot of rom-coms or anything, but he had been full of surprises thus far. So Lance didn't know if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he obliged him anyway and took the food that had been offered to him.

"...It's not bad," he concluded. "Flavor's kind of dull, though. If it were me, I'd add vanilla or something to make up for the milk."

"Do you cook?"

"Oh, sure. Everybody takes turns back home."

"Makes sense if you have thirty people living there." Lance couldn't quite tell if Keith was teasing him or saying that bitterly. It wouldn't surprise him to find that it was a little bit of both. Keith had never properly lived with a family, had he?

Lance offered an extra strip of bacon, which Keith accepted with a little smile. He let Lance try some of his eggs, which Lance thought actually tasted better without milk. And then it really did feel like a date. Lance said nothing so as not to jinx it.

As they ate, they discussed Spanish. Lance had promised to teach him some. Keith did remember the basic stuff everyone learned in high school, but the first order of business was teaching him how to roll an "r", because all of his attempts were downright abysmal. Lance had to explain it about twelve different ways before he finally seemed to be speaking Keith's language. And when at last Keith managed, he let out an uncharacteristic _whoop_ before covering his face in embarrassment as Lance laughed and laughed. He was proud, but it was still funny.

They had different morning routines. Lance took care of his hygiene right away. He and Keith were in agreement about not bothering to shower, since they'd done so the previous evening, but Lance always took good care of his skin while Keith did little more than brush his teeth and his hair, only washing his face with the standard soap and water. Lance scolded him about that. He was a good-looking guy NOW, but that could fade with time if he neglected his skin. _And to neglect something that pretty would be a crime_ , Lance didn't say out loud.

"Aren't you gonna change? You're still in pajamas," Keith yawned when they reunited in the bathroom. Lance grinned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I wasn't gonna do that yet, but... Me?" He looked Keith up and down. "What about you?"

Keith stared at him for a moment before looking down at himself. He groaned.

"That— shit. I forgot they were yours. Too comfortable, I guess."

"Yeah, _pajamas_ are like that," Lance mocked. Keith scoffed at him, but didn't argue that point.

"A-Anyway, I'll go change and give them back."

Lance watched as Keith scurried off to fish around with his bags for a moment, and he silently mulled something over.

"You know what?" He smirked. "Keep 'em. You said you didn't pack anything else to sleep in and those sweatpants are a little too short for me anyway." He kicked out his legs for just a moment. To emphasize how long they were.

"What?" Keith tugged at the collar of the oversized tee. A look that suited him a bit too well. ...Maybe Lance just didn't want him to change yet. "It's yours. It's not sentimental or something?"

"Nah. Just a cheap tee from some thrift shop, probably. It's the kind of thing I get just to sleep or laze around in." Lance gestured vaguely at the purple logo Keith was sporting. "I've never even heard of that band."

"Uh... alright, I guess," Keith relented with a little sigh. "...Still, you've gotta let me do something to repay you. For that and for covering the tip last night."

Just as Lance began to contemplate what he should ask for, his phone buzzed— he'd just taken it off of _Do Not Disturb_. He grinned. The latest was a Snapchat notification. From his sister Rachel. Who was freaking out about the fact that he hadn't been answering his phone and demanding to know where he was because their mom was worried. He hadn't meant to cause them any trouble. He'd just been afraid to answer their questions, or to pretend that everything was normal, for fear that he would cave in and go back on his desires.

"Tell you what—" Lance held up his phone. "I'll call it even if you pose for a stupid picture with me."

Keith frowned slightly.

"What, like, a selfie?"

"Something like that." Lance couldn't help but giggle as the mental picture formed in his mind. "I'm gonna sit on the end of the bed and do my usual shtick, put some casual caption about hanging out in a hotel room. And you just hide somewhere in the background and look as _menacing_ as physically fucking possible."

Even Keith couldn't help but laugh at that, even if he did sound more incredulous than amused.

"I'm some ominous character we're gonna pretend isn't there?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well, you're in luck," Keith joked. "I don't know how to smile for pictures like a normal person anyway."

"So you ALWAYS look like some ominous background character?"

"Pretty much."

Keith was surprisingly cooperative when he thought the joke was worth it. Lance struck a pose that Keith described as "aggressively bisexual". Lance threw a sock at him and Keith assumed his position— largely hidden behind the mattress, but with the top half of his head poking up, and glaring at the cell phone.

"Wait, hang on, hang on— can you, like, move as fast as you can? I want there to be a motion blur."

"I think that changes me from an ominous background character to an attempted murderer—"

"Just do it!"

Keith sighed, but did as he was told, and the image that Lance captured was just as horrifying and cursed as he had hoped it would be. Keith's mop of dark hair lent a lot to it. It was hard to tell, with the blur, if he was a man or a woman or if he was even a person. Lance laughed as he sent it through with the most nonchalant caption that he could think of. Keith joined him as soon as he had been granted permission and laughed as Rachel responded in just the way that Lance had hoped she would.

 _Who the hell is that?!_ Rachel wanted to know. Lance turned to look at Keith. 

"You wanna do a normal one?"

Keith fidgeted.

"I... I dunno. Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. It's just for Rachel. One of my sisters."

"Oh. Uh..."

Keith sat down beside Lance. And it seemed that he had no idea how this worked, because he just sat there and waited and didn't seem to know where to look. "I never really do these."

"Well, first you have to move to make sure you're in the frame." Keith studied the screen and did as he was told. Lance chuckled at the way that he quickly adjusted an errant strand of hair. "Some people strike a pose, though I guess you don't have to. Then you just gotta smile."

"Hmm." Keith was properly in-frame, but he definitely wasn't smiling. Lance could have sworn he'd frowned on purpose just because Lance had told him to smile.

"Oh, come on! It doesn't have to be a BIG smile," Lance coaxed.

In true gay fashion, Keith's hand formed a peace sign despite his best efforts to ignore Lance and maintain a stern expression. Lance laughed at that as he formed his own trademark finger gun with the other hand.

"Actually, I guess you don't even have to smile," Lance joked as he readied the camera. "The deadpan-expression-and-peace-sign combo works."

He'd told Keith that he _didn't_ have to smile, but maybe he'd found that comment amusing, because his lip twitched at one corner until his mouth widened into something like a shy, sheepish grin. Lance wasn't about to waste that opportunity. He snapped the picture before that smile could fade. And then he sat there like an idiot for a couple of seconds before he managed to recover from it. Keith's asymmetrical little dimple was just plain unfair.

Once Rachel seemed satisfied, Lance suggested lounging around in pajamas for a while. Watching TV together would probably pass the time faster than anything else. Not that they had all that much time, of course. Lance did, but Keith was leaving in a matter of hours.

"I don't watch a lot of TV," Keith admitted as Lance surfed through the channels. "The group home didn't have cable. And I can't afford it now. Though I do share a Netflix subscription with my roommate if I wanna binge something every once in a while."

"I don't think PBS aired a lot of these cheesy 90s sitcoms, did they?" Lance asked, pausing on one such channel that focused on reruns. Keith stared at it for a moment.

"The laugh track will get on my nerves after a while."

"Heh— I, uh, guess it would if you weren't used to it." Lance didn't even think about the laugh track anymore. He flipped through channels for a while, up until he found something he felt was just right. He made a victorious sound at having found it. "This right here—" Lance gestured at the screen. "This is UNIVERSAL."

"What is it?"

" _America's Funniest Home Videos_."

"I've at least heard of that one," Keith said, sounding weirdly proud of himself. "What do you mean by universal, though?"

"Well, my family has extended family over a lot. And a lot of them don't know anything about us young multilingual folks. Some of them don't speak any English at all, so they just wanna watch weird soap operas and soccer games and don't "get" the shows my siblings and I wanna watch. But _this show_ — what I like to say is that people falling down and hurting themselves is funny in every language. It's the great unifier of cultures."

Keith didn't have any comment in that at first. But he stayed quiet for a moment, and watched just long enough to see someone jump too high on a trampoline, smack their head on a tree branch, and fling right onto the grass. He snort-laughed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I guess that's true."

Lance continued to smile smugly for several minutes at having been validated even though no one was talking.

They watched quietly for a while. It was _mostly_ quiet, rather— Keith's fingers clacked across his laptop keys and Lance let out chuckles every few minutes. Keith's eyes did flit to the screen every once in a while, but he was hard at work. He seemed to be having an easier time of it now, because the words seemed to be flowing and Lance didn't see him hit the backspace button too often. Before he'd only managed to get in a sentence or two before changing his mind.

"You type pretty fast," Lance observed. Keith hummed.

"Used to help my brother take notes. He had trouble with it for a while on account of the not-hand."

"The— I'm sorry, the WHAT?"

Keith abruptly stopped and blinked, like he hadn't realized what he was saying until he had said it. Just rambling. Lance did that a lot.

"Oh. Shiro, uh, he has a prosthetic arm. Had to get it amputated and replaced. He's had a lot of health issues. We've theorized about it— we think that must be why his parents didn't want him."

"Holy sh— that's messed up!"

Keith shrugged. 

"Way of the jungle, I guess."

 _How disturbingly casual_ , Lance thought.

He let Keith type for a little while longer. He didn't want to push his luck and bother the guy and get back on his bad side.

"So," he began tentatively, "you gonna tell me what you're working on yet?"

Keith pouted and averted his eyes away from Lance's gaze, staring hard at his own fingers.

"Right. Well, I'm... actually the best man, so. I'm supposed to do this whole... speech... thing."

"The toast?"

"I mean, yeah, that. Which is supposed to be short and funny and lighthearted, so it's not quite as hard. I finished that already. The issue is that he also asked me to write one for the ceremony. They're writing their own vows and he says he wants me to be part of the process."

"Huh." Lance thought that over. "Maybe that's his way of sort of explaining things, you know? You said it seemed sudden. Maybe it won't by the time all three of you are done talking."

"...Maybe. I'm just— I've never been good at this kind of thing. Talking. Explaining stuff."

"I had kinda figured that much out about you." Keith started to glare at him. Lance gave him a kind smile that seemed to disarm him. "But not everybody can be good at everything, right? If the feelings are there all you have to do is be honest. It doesn't have to be fancy."

"I guess you're right."

"...Would it help to have an unbiased judge? You can read it to me. I'll tell you if it sucks ass."

"Wow. Thanks."

"Really, though! Anyone that knows you better would just say it's good and not give you any real feedback."

"That's... probably true," Keith grumbled. He seemed reluctant to admit that Lance was right about something. Lance had that effect on _many_ people. "Just wait until I'm done, alright? I'm almost there. Obviously it's just a first draft, but I can always work out the kinks later."

Lance nodded. Quietly. Because he was also biting his tongue to avoid making an inappropriate joke about Keith's use of the word "kinks" and silently cursing everything about his own nature. Why did Keith have to go and be so cute, anyway?

Eventually, Keith was done with his draft. It felt like forever because Lance was looking forward to it and barely paying attention to the TV. He counted the minutes in his head until Keith moved in a way that told him he had finished writing.

"You done?" Keith nodded. "Alright. Dramatic reading. Go."

Keith _furiously_ shook his head and nearly threw the laptop at Lance.

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm not reading it to you out loud. Just read it yourself."

"What difference does that make?!"

"Just read it!"

Lance had half a mind to protest. He decided against it. It was a big enough deal that Keith was allowing him to read it at all. So he tried to ignore Keith's eyes, like daggers against the side of his face, and settled in to read.

He read. He read, and he read, and then he coughed and pretended that he had something in his eye. He couldn't tell if Keith was onto him or not. His head titled to one side slightly, as if he was a curious dog, but he didn't say anything. Lance cleared his throat as obnoxiously as he could.

Keith's letter was, quite frankly, goddamn beautiful, and Lance was _shocked_ that he was being allowed to see it at all. It was no wonder Keith had refused to read it aloud— no normal person would be able to do so without crying.

Keith had nothing to worry about. He was going to be just fine. He really, _really_ loved his brother.

"It's, uh, it's fine," Lance squeaked. "It's... really good, actually. Honest."

"Yeah?" Keith blinked, and he waited, as if he was expecting Lance to take it back. A few seconds, and he nodded. "Oh. Cool. Uh, thanks. ...Guess now it's just a matter of deciding if I can bear to read it in front of a bunch of strangers without wanting to just _die_."

"Or bursting into tears?" Lance accused as he handed the laptop back in a gesture similar to pointing. Keith chuckled.

"...That, too."

With that, Lance convinced his temporary roommate to put the laptop away. He could do some revisions later, but for the most part it was perfect. A bit unpolished, but why did it have to be polished? People rarely were. Lance certainly wasn't, and he was learning to be okay with that.

Keith settled in next to him on the mattress and tuned into the show. Only a little, though. He asked about Lance's family— what his many siblings were like, specifically— and Lance thought little of it as he answered. He rattled them off one by one. He couldn't really tell what Keith was thinking as he did so. His guess was that Keith was trying to imagine what living with a big family was like. Maybe that was why he looked a little bit sad.

Lance felt compelled to change the subject. They talked Spanish again for a while, until Keith knew some phrases that would help him fit in. Then Lance asked Keith what this mysterious fiancé was like. Keith tried and failed to describe him. He gave up and pulled out his cell phone. Shiro had sent him a few engagement photos. It looked like they hadn't had time to book a professional photographer and had settled for candids taken with a friend's phone camera. Lance thought that the candids were nice, though. It told him that they were comfortable with one another. None of the staging that was usually present in pictures like these.

"He's a good-looking guy," Lance mumbled.

"Yeah," Keith agreed, nodding, until his head stopped and he glared out of the corner of his eye. "Wait. Which one?"

"Uh—"

"Don't answer that."

 _You never technically told me which one was which_ , Lance didn't bother to say as Keith withdrew his phone. Lance had been able to figure it out himself through context clues, though. In a couple of the pictures, Lance had been able to spot the prosthetic arm Keith had mentioned. Which meant Shiro was the big guy. The one with the smile so bright and so kind that it was almost blinding.

"I don't know much about what he's like as a person yet," Keith grumbled. "Just that he's smart. And kind of blunt. Shiro says they have a lot in common, but I don't know what that means." He sighed. "I just... hope he's a good guy."

"Shiro wouldn't marry an asshole, though, would he?"

"I hope not."

"Hey. Hey." Lance squeezed his forearm, tugging him very slightly in his direction. "You're all _up in your own head again_. It's gonna be okay, okay?"

" _Okay_ ," Keith laughed. It sort of sounded like he was making fun of Lance, but he would let that go for now.

There was a moment. Lance didn't know how else to describe it, really, because nothing happened, but a lot of things happened, and they just looked at each other. Keith's smirk faded. Lance thought that maybe he looked nervous. Lance started to open his mouth to say something. Before he could find the words, Keith broke away. His eyes flitted to the clock on the distant wall and went wide, and then Lance knew their time had come to an end.

"I'm running late," he groaned as he jumped up from the sofa.

"You took a shower in the afternoon yesterday," Lance reminded him as he watched him run around like a chicken missing its head. He watched Keith grab an article or two of clothing and dart for the bathroom door. "I wouldn't worry about that part if I were you."

"I won't. We already decided that."

Lance heard Keith gathering up his toiletries in the bathroom. He didn't want to sit there and mope around, so he stood and picked up Keith's remaining things, arranging them on the mattress. That way Keith wouldn't have to run around trying to remember where he'd put them.

Keith stumbled out of the bathroom, frazzled and with his hair tied back, and seemed very confused before Lance gestured at the comforter. He gave a grateful nod before running to collect everything in his duffel bag. It suddenly occurred to Lance that real suitcases were actually quite expensive. He kind of wished that he was rich just so he could buy Keith a nice rolling luggage set. And maybe some nice pajamas.

Lance was startled upon noticing that Keith had changed only his jeans and had opted to tuck his new t-shirt into them. It hung loose in wide folds and was so big at the collar that it almost hung off of his shoulder, exposing a bit of collarbone. Keith didn't say anything about it. Lance gulped and did his best to keep a straight face. In more than one sense of the word.

"You don't need me to, uh, take you to the airport?" Lance asked. The hopeful note in his voice was obvious and he winced at himself. Keith, apparently, was downright oblivious to that sort of thing. 

"I know where it is," he responded, sounding almost confused. Lance sighed.

"...Right. Of course you do."

Lance was stuck.

He wanted to give Keith his number or something, and he was definitely bummed to see him go, but what if Keith wasn't on the same page? They'd had a good talk or two, sure, but what if that was just making the best of a shitty situation? He could just ask, sure. Normally he would. He wasn't usually so easily flustered. It was Keith's fault, of course! Something about Keith had completely thrown Lance off of his usual game.

Lance wanted to keep looking at Keith, like maybe Keith would take the hint if he continued to do so, but it was rude to stare, and he didn't want Keith to feel pressured. So he thrust his hands in his pockets and lingered near the bathroom door, eyes on the TV screen. He heard jammed zippers and folding fabrics and what sounded like a piece of paper being torn. All of that sound stopped. It just stopped. Lance almost turned around.

"You wouldn't, uh, happen to have a snack, would you? I forgot to bring something for the plane," Keith said, and he sounded like he was lying. Lance raised an eyebrow at the wall. 

"There are granola bars in my carry-on. The little blue backpack."

"Right... alright."

Lance didn't have anything to hide in there. Keith took a long time finding those granola bars, though, and Lance couldn't help but wonder if he was snooping around. The bag was zipped shut before he could ask, and with that, Keith was ready. Lance heard him hoist the duffel bag over his shoulder. He turned to face him.

"You got your snack?”

"Huh?" Keith's face was blank for several seconds. "Oh— yeah! I've got it."

Lance squinted at him. _Whatever_. It probably didn't matter. Keith was just kind of weird and that was okay. Adorable, even.

"Well, uh... I guess that's it, then. Have a safe trip, okay?"

"Okay."

An awkward silence. No, he definitely couldn't leave it at that, and Keith _did_ look like he was waiting for something. Lance crossed the short distance between them.

"And, hey..." he squeezed Keith's shoulder. Keith inhaled a bit too sharply and stared at his hand. "As long as you and your brother love each other, you can make a home anywhere. It might be weird at first, but you'll be okay."

"Uh—" he turned a bit red, just a little bit, and shook his head. "Thanks. You, um..." After an uncertain moment, Keith imitated Lance's shoulder move and Lance snickered. "Talk to your family. It's a good thing that you've got the resolve to leave something behind if it isn't making you happy, but you should be sure about it before you throw the opportunity away, right? ...That said, if you could get into that school, you could probably get into any school."

"Y'mean that?" Lance smiled fondly. Keith smiled back.

"I do."

"Well, thanks. It's been fun."

"Yeah."

He opted for the friendly handshake. Keith hadn't bothered with his usual gloves, so Lance got the full contact of his soft palms against his. Keith held his hand for too long, met his gaze for a moment of time that was not long enough.

There was electricity there. Lance knew it. Keith knew it, he was sure. Still, neither one commented on it. The moment passed and then Keith was past him, through the door, in the hallway as it closed behind him. His footsteps were quick, too quick, like he was trying to get away with some semblance of his external walls intact. It was a bit late for that, Lance thought.

Then, he was lonely. He had several more hours all to himself in this luxurious hotel and he didn't feel like leaving the room. He fell heavily onto the mattress once more, sighing dramatically and with half a mind to chase that stupid boy through the airport.   
  


* * *

  
Lance's plane arrived before long.

It felt like a long time, though, when he was sitting in the hotel room alone, munching on a mango and waiting as the hours dragged by.

He boarded without issue, and he had a window seat and a polite neighbor who went to sleep pretty quickly without making much noise. Things were definitely looking up. His plans were back on track.

Still, he was sad. He missed Keith. That weirdo.

It had never really occurred to him before how many incredible people he would never get to meet because of distance. This brush with fate had been his one chance to find out just what sort of thing he'd been missing. But their paths were only meant to cross once, and as the result of a string of unfortunate coincidences, never to intersect again. Just because of distance. That was just the way things worked.

He was thinking about this, trying to clear his head, as he fished through his carry-on bag. Maybe some music would drown out his sorrows. He'd have to avoid that selfie he'd taken with Keith, though, because it would only rekindle all of those feelings. Those short-lived but very promising sparks.

It was silly that he would be so hung up on it, right? Wasn't it likely that he was just imagining things? That he had invented that chemistry?

Lance was in the middle of mentally lecturing himself for letting his heart get carried away when a little piece of paper fell from his bag. One that he hadn't put there and didn't recognize. His heart stopped, and then it started pounding loudly as he unfolded it with trembling fingers.

It was from the hotel. There had been a little notepad and a pen on one of the nightstands. And there, in surprisingly neat and bubbly handwriting, was a phone number and a note that read, very simply, "call me when you land".

Lance grinned. _Keith_. So _that's_ why it had taken him so long to find that granola bar.

Lance had every intention of doing just what the note had invited him to do. He'd call when he landed. He'd tell Keith to call _him_ if he had any questions about Cuba or wanted to know where something in Varadero was. He'd demand that he send pictures of the wedding and take some selfies on the beach for him.

He put his things away, just then noticing that he was still tired from having woken up so early. He cuddled up to the window with a little pillow tucked between his neck and shoulder.

Then, Lance smiled as he fell asleep, thinking that maybe— _just maybe_ — his plane being delayed could turn out to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm val and I love projecting my own characteristics and insecurities onto fictional characters that I love (Keith being scared of calling people on the phone and reluctant to make eye contact). Also I have not been in a hotel since I was like 8 and know nothing about how they work, so I did some really basic research and actually had no idea about the maid tipping thing. 
> 
> Also, the AFV thing is based on an actual experience. My class had a bunch of exchange students from South America and the whole soccer team went on a trip together bc they made nationals. The boys later told me that at first it was awkward rooming with and trying to befriend people who didn't speak the same language. But they found AFV on the TV and instantly bonded bc, as a classmate put it, "people falling down and hurting themselves is funny in every language and requires no translation".


End file.
